The last four days have been some of the hardest I’ve experienced in quite some time. I’ve been mired in a state of depression that probably hasn’t been this severe since the early part of my recovery last summer. I’ve fought and struggled and despaired and clung onto anything that would help me keep my head above water. I’ve immersed myself in video games as a distraction and temporary escape. I’ve reached out to friends I’ve known would be understanding and sympathetic and supportive (and I thank all of you who’ve taken the time to give me some of your attention). I’ve raged inside my own mind, angry at the relapse, knowing the way I feel is stupid and ridiculous and irrational, but unable to shake free of it nonetheless. I’ve been afraid — terrified, if I’m truly honest — of an irreversible spiral back into darkness.
I say all this, not as an admission of defeat or failure, but as a reminder that the journey through and toward mental wellness continues to be a day-by-day process. There are going to be setbacks, relapses, dark valleys. And that’s ok. It’s fine to have those moments because they pass. They always pass. This is why I’ve spent so much time this past year building up a support network around myself. I have two or three very close friends I can go to anytime about anything and know they won’t judge me. There are at least a dozen others I can touch base with for casual chats, brief and uplifting moments of light, who I also know “get” it and, even if they don’t realize it, give me their support and encouragement just by granting me some small measure of their attention.
And I know, in clear and painful detail, what caused this latest bout of depression. Yes, part of it is the chemical instability that is a permanent part of my brain chemistry. But it is also the daily stress I have been under for the better part of the last month. It has been the constant disappointments and frustrations of living life, of encountering roadblock after roadblock after roadblock preventing me from getting to the place in my life where I really want to be. It’s the deep, deep loneliness I feel every day, missing my children (even when they drive me crazy), the inability to have much of a social life because I can’t afford one financially. (And isn’t that just a kicker right there, that, on some level, money is almost always required for socialization, even if it’s just for the fuel you need for your vehicle.)
I’m doing better today. The mental pall has lifted, and I feel more like me again. The stresses that afflict me continue to be there, but I’m in a better frame of mind to cope with them. And I’m continuing to try to lean on God and my faith to get through this seemingly never-ending waiting game. It’s an ongoing process, and I’ll keep going on.
One day at a time.
One step at a time.
One breath at a time.